


Real Slow

by nzeedee



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Candy, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by Fanart, Kleptomania, M/M, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7762693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nzeedee/pseuds/nzeedee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is Pietro's annoying, trouble making, kleptomaniac boyfriend, but he loves him unconditionally. Even if he is a total pain in the ass more often than not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Slow

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr user [yunissss](http://yunissss.tumblr.com/) bc of their lovely quick2 art!
> 
> Inspired by [this](https://78.media.tumblr.com/57dfb94fe077cbfe13bd8b3c086874ac/tumblr_o9gqaryKnv1rx2spuo1_1280.png) and [this](https://78.media.tumblr.com/cfbaf86c54c66569b089f082393d0307/tumblr_o9liofAQKs1rx2spuo1_1280.png) piece directly, and [this](https://78.media.tumblr.com/432c671cef100ac792a2f3210ca157e6/tumblr_obkwz9rknp1rx2spuo1_1280.png) artwork is mentioned!
> 
> [Korean translation](http://qxqs2.postype.com/post/294621/) by yunissss
> 
> [German translation](http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/585196c4000331f9a03fbbc/1/Schoen-langsam-Peter-x-Pietro-) by Maron

Living room? No.

Bedroom? Nope.

Kitchen? Nada.

Bathroom? Definitely not.

Basement? Ding ding ding!

Peter snaps his goggles onto his forehead, intending on finishing his day at a leisurely pace. Nothing better than video games and junk food to decompress, and coming home to a lovely sight definitely helps.

If you ask Peter, Pietro should never wear sleeves. With arms like _that_ , why does he even bother? In fact, with a _body_ like that why does he even bother with shirts all together? As much as Peter hates exercise of any kind, Pietro does look flattering doing push-ups. The way his arms flex as his chest hovers over the floor, and the perfect straight form of his spine.

Hot, but Peter is going to ruin it.

He plunks his plastic corner store bag of junk food in front of Pietro’s face, as if planting bait to lure him away from his workout. What could be more enticing than Peter’s adorable self and candy?

“Did you pay for that?” Pietro asks, not faltering from his workout or even glancing up at the bag.

Ugh, not this again! Fine, so Peter has bad kleptomania and his speed only encourages that behaviour. When Pietro found out, he really beat it into Peter to stop stealing. It worked eventually. Like anything, it’s a process and Peter still occasionally steals as a second nature. But it’s less than before and the progress is good enough for Pietro.

“Yes, I paid for it.” He did. With Pietro’s money, that he stole. He tosses the stolen wallet in front of Pietro’s face, “Sorry. I guess you paid for it.”

Pietro sighs and rolls his eyes at his wallet, now missing a wad of cash. At least he didn’t steal from the store. A chunk from his paycheck is better than a chunk from a unsuspecting corner store clerk.

“So,” Peter starts, trying to veer away from getting _the talk_ again, “do you want help with your workout?” He asked this every time Pietro was exercising even though he thought the idea of exercising was disgusting. What’s the point? He has rapid metabolism and when moving at superhuman speeds he could generate high amounts of force that made the weight and hardness of anything else irrelevant. Working out was just a huge waste of time in Peter’s case.

Peter raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as continues to ogle Pietro.

 _On the other hand…_ He could _definitely_ see the advantages of the routine.

Then again, he already had Pietro, so he himself didn’t have to look like that at all. He is happily occupying the position of appreciation. What is the point of all of Pietro’s heavy lifting if Peter isn’t there to admire?

“What are you going to do to ‘help’ this time?” Pietro is referring to the countless previous times where Peter tried to ‘help’ but his idea of help was to help himself instead of Pietro. His idea of helping was sitting too close while making silly faces and cracking jokes to distract Pietro from his routine. Annoying, but cute.

Peter huffs and buzzes his lips, “Oh!” In a flash he is sitting cross-legged on Pietro’s flat back, almost slamming him into the floor. Pietro exhales shakily then lowers himself to hover an inch above the floorboards, raising himself a moment later.

Peter blinks in surprise; he didn’t expect him to actually be able to continue. He thought Pietro would get pissed off and flip him onto the floor. “Wow,” Peter says, leaning over to grab a candy bar from his plastic bag, “Isn’t it hard to exercise everyday?” He unwraps the chocolate and rips off a chunk with his teeth, chewing obnoxiously. “I honestly don’t know why people do hard workouts,” he comments, spitting out crumbs.

“Peter, come down!” Pietro says between pants, the extra weight becoming too much for his arms and core, “Why do you interrupt me every time I exercise?”

“I’m helping you.”

“Dude…” He gasps and gives in, flopping down onto the floor with a pained whine. After taking a moment to catch his breath he turns his head in an attempt to get a better look at Peter. “Get off so I can continue my workout.”

Peter groans and rolls onto the floor, lying on his back to stare at the ceiling absently. Pietro flips over beside him and places his hands behind his head and tucks his legs in.

“Sit on my feet if you really want to help.”

Peter hauls himself off the floor and tosses his half eaten chocolate bar back in the bag before sitting on Pietro’s feet like he asks. He grips his calves and squeezes them when Pietro comes up to meet him face to face. He greets him by sticking out his tongue and Pietro only replies with an eye roll. Peter still thinks it’s endearing. Next time he comes up Peter crosses his eyes then grins when he sees Pietro smile.

He didn’t peg the ‘out of breath with sweat slicked hair sticking to his forehead’ look to be so attractive on Pietro, in fact it was almost not fair that he could look this good during a workout. He leans forward and rests his arms on Pietro's knees, watching him intently. He makes note of the rhythm at which Pietro is doing his sit-ups, this being a crucial factor in knowing exactly when to plant kisses to his nose.

He leans forward at just a right moment and pecks Pietro’s nose when he comes to meet him face to face. Barely fazed by this, Pietro falls back to the floor to repeat the process. Peter pouts at the lack of reaction and repeats his action every time he is presented with an opportunity.

“You’re being distracting, Peter.” Pietro says, mid sit-up.

Peter knits his eyebrows, “You’re being stubborn. Now, kiss me.” He leans forward, waiting for what he asked for.

Pietro pulls up to meet Peter; his lips feeling dangerously close, “No.” he sinks back down to the floor, not giving Peter another word.

“Oh come on! Kiss me!”

“Not now.”

“I taste like chocolate.”

“You usually taste like sugar, your diet is awful.”

“I know you sneak candy when you think I’m not looking. I don’t know what makes you think I won’t notice; my reflexes are increasingly better than yours. If you want some you can just ask, or even just take it, most of it is bought with your stolen money anyway. You don’t need to be so sneak-“

Peter is cut off when Pietro’s lips silence his with a short but much welcomed kiss. The kiss lingers, effectively wiping away Peter’s train of thought leaving him with no memory of what he was talking about.

“Happy?” Pietro asks as he breaks the kiss almost as suddenly as it started, “Now shut up or I’m going to fire you as my foot weight.”

“You already fired me as your jogging partner and I don’t even know why you go jogging!” Seriously! What’s the point? Does he know he know he has superhuman speed? Does he do it just to piss Peter off? “I clearly can’t keep a job, that’s why I keep stealing your money.”

Pietro snorts and falls back to continue his reps, but when he pulls up he is once again greeted by a kiss gingerly placed to his lips. Peter is a persistent little fucker wearing a smug little grin after each kiss. He would be as distracting as possible till Pietro abandons the workout to give him attention.

His tactics are strikingly effective.

Gentle pecks turn into lingering kisses, until Pietro’s hand is firmly placed on the nape of Peter’s neck, giving him a light squeeze.

Peter mentally celebrates his achievement; he loves being Pietro’s annoying distraction to ensure he gets nothing done. Now that he is hooked, it is time to reel him in completely. “I want to play video games,” he mumbles into the kiss, setting up his next plan of action.

“Go play video games,” Pietro says, breaking the kiss completely, “I’m not stopping you.”

“Playing alone is boring,” Peter complains.

“Peter I need to-” Pietro huffs when Peter plays the pouty lip and puppy dog eyes card. “Fine,” He says, finally giving in to his boyfriend, “but I’m going to shower first."

Peter perks up. _Success._ He gives him one last smooch, “Don’t use my shampoo.” He takes his junk food and zips into the living room, leaving Pietro in his dust.

“It’s my shampoo! It was never yours to begin with!” No response. Pietro sighs and hauls himself off the basement floor, mumbling under his breath, _“little brat…_ ”

“I heard that!”

“Good!” Pietro shouts before bolting to the bathroom for a shower. Ever since he got together with Peter, he would use his powers unnecessarily. Well, more so than he already did. Sometimes the efficiency of getting to a destination in an instant is too satisfying to pass up. Most of the time it’s because he _really_ wants to go home to see Peter.

Peter drops his bag of food on the coffee table then boots up the game console. He set up Super Mario and wonders why Pietro never made him return all his stolen vintage video games. He shrugs the thought off momentarily along with his jacket, draping it over a chair. He flops back on the couch, lying across it and begins a one-player session while he waits for Pietro.

Shortly Pietro is nudging at him to make room. Peter glances at him; of course he’s wearing his favourite jacket. The one that hugs his shoulders so nicely with the arm arrows trailing down the sleeves. Peter scoots forward to accommodate for Pietro sliding up behind him. He tugs Peter flush against him once he’s comfortable, wiggling one leg under Peter to be planted firmly on the ground while the other stretches out along the length of the couch. Peter fits perfectly against him; knees tucked slightly then his arms doing the same when Pietro steals the controller away from him. He uses his free hands to retrieve two lollipops from his bag and tears off the wrappers. He sticks one in his mouth then offers the other to Pietro, touching it to his lips till he takes it.

He makes displeased faces at Pietro’s gaming skills, how can he fall into that many holes? Why is he so _slow_? “You suck at gaming!”

“Shut up!”

He slaps the controller away from Pietro and takes over, doing significantly better instantly. His reflexes are faster and he can do the levels while running, finishing the level in half the time.

“Show off.”

Peter grins, “Have you been playing Pokémon lately? I left you a surprise.”

“Haven’t gotten the chance, no.” He shifts to sit up better, “What’s the surprise?”

Peter ditches the game and zips upstairs, leaving Pietro to catch the controller before it hits the ground. He returns seconds later, trading the controller for his DS at a normal speed. He wiggles his way back into Pietro’s lap and continues with his game, “Open it then check your team.” Peter didn’t get to see the expression on Pietro’s face but the unamused sigh told him he got it. “They’re Slowpokes, all of them, because you’re slow. Compared to me that is.”

“You know I’m faster than most people, right?”

“Everyone actually, except me.”

“You’re such a child,” the DS snaps close and gets tossed aside, then strong warm arms coil around Peter’s waist. Pietro pulls him closer into a tight hug. Usually he would have his lips on Peter’s neck by now but he had a lollipop in his mouth and refrained from accidentally stabbing him.

 _Fuck, he smells good._ Peter sighs, sinking into the couch and closer to Pietro, wanting to absorb as much of him as possible. They settle for a while, soaking in the comfort and stillness of the air. Faint music and sound effects emanate from the television as Peter continues to play.

Peter ends up crunching his candy then tossing the stick in the bag. He taps Pietro’s arm with the controller and he takes over. Peter doesn’t bother watching; instead he flips over and curls himself around the other’s body. He takes a deep breath, inhaling his soapy fresh scent and indulging in his warmth. Suddenly his back felt cold being exposed to the chilly air. Why wouldn’t Pietro be surrounding him? He wants to use him as a heated protective blanket. Stay wrapped in his arms for eternity.

“Are you okay, Peter?”

“Hm?” Peter peaks up from Pietro’s chest, “Yeah, I just didn’t want to watch you completely suck at video games.”

“Ouch.”

“Seriously, I can _hear_ how awful you are.” Peter says, imitating the dying noise from the video game only to hear it seconds later. He snorts at the coincidence, “Practice makes perfect.”

Pietro growls in annoyance when he is presented with the game over screen and gives up, dropping the controller to the floor. As consolation he wraps his arms around Peter, mumbling about how much video games suck.

Remaining still and silent, not itching to move is an unusual state for the pair. Contrasting the days where they would play over dramatic high-speed tag. The game gets interesting when running on the walls is involved, yet Pietro still tries to corner Peter. He never learns.

Peter pulls away and flops on his back, feeling overheated from the extended contact. He doesn’t leave but he creates more space between them. He gazes at Pietro then runs a free hand through his hair, “You should let me dye your hair.”

He scoffs, “In your dreams.”

“Come oooon! You should go silver like me. Why wouldn’t you want to match with your favourite person in the entire universe?”

“I don’t think I would look good with Wanda’s hair.”

He gives him a dirty look. The coy bastard knows exactly what he means. “Yeah, you would look pretty awful. Even _worse_ than you already do!”

“Oh, yeah, and you look so fucking cool in your stupid silver _everything_. Peter, I know you spray paint your clothes.”

“At least I wasn’t born in a tracksuit!”

“Oh? What was that? Oh right! It’s just you refusing to admit that you not-so-secretly love my jacket.”

Peter gasps, sounding genuinely offended, “I would never love anything so closely related to exercise.”

Pietro rolls his eyes and mouths, ‘ _oh my god’_ , then takes out his phone. He flips through his photos till he finds the ones he wants. “Not only did you wear my jacket yesterday morning, _but_ you proceeded to fill my phone with pictures of you in my jacket. _Not to mention_ you waited for me to come home by sitting on the stairs to the second floor because you knew I would find you in my jacket.” Even if Peter is his favourite sight to come home to he’s not going to admit it, especially not now.

He didn’t dive too deep into that memory because he was also guilty of clothing theft. He _may_ have been wearing Peter’s Rush shirt that afternoon but neither of them said anything. Instead they sat on the stairs, legs tangled together. Which Pietro only agreed to because Peter made him hot chocolate.

Peter isn’t going to fess up to any of that shit either. He snickers and snatches the phone away to flip through his photos. Plenty of ‘rock on’ hand signs with his tongue out. “Dude, I took like thirty photos.” He swipes his finger faster, not yet getting to the cut off. He locks the screen and sets the phone down on his stomach, leaning up to Pietro. He nuzzles his cheek, “I see you didn’t delete a single one of them,” he coos. He presses multiple kisses to a focused spot on his cheek, thanking him for keeping all his dumb photos.

Pietro shoves his face away, “Oh no you don’t! You are not allowed to be adorable after insulting me that much.”

Peter lulls his head back to Pietro with an exaggerated frown and a pouty lip. “Pietro…” he drawls, dragging out the last vowel.

“Nope,” Pietro turns his head away, staring at the ceiling instead.

“Come on, Pietro.” Peter slowly drags two fingers down Pietro’s jaw line, letting them catch at his chin to draw his face down to look him in the eyes. He could feel his soft warm breath ghosting over his lips.

“Fuuuuck – you’re cute,” Pietro gasps, closing the gap between them. It felt like sealing a deal with the devil. There is no turning back now. He leans deeper into the kiss, inhaling sharply then exhaling slowly, sinking the kiss like an anchor.

Peter parts his lips and he gasps at the sudden weight invited over his body, imprinting his silhouette into the sofa cushions. His hands roam, squeezing the broad shoulders that keep him helplessly pinned. But he’s not asking for help. He’s not asking to be free. His fingertips trail down Pietro’s back, mapping every curve and noting every shift. Pietro abandons his lips, moving to previously explored areas but treating them as uncharted territory, greeting Peter’s neck with fresh kisses to known flesh.

Peter cranes his neck, exposing more skin and peering over the other’s shoulder, eyeing his own handiwork. He carefully slides two fingers into Pietro’s back pocket, fishing out his wallet gradually, grinning to himself when the deed was done. He opens the neatly folded leather pocketbook and riffles through the bills, snatching a fist full of cash. He counts his winnings then discards the wallet, letting it slap against the wooden coffee table, earning a jolt from Pietro.

He picks himself up, now only hovering over Peter, and browses the surface of the coffee table. “Is that my wallet?”

Peter brings the money to his front and fans the bills out in front of Pietro’s face, “Yes – But this time I took it _real slow_.”

“Fuck you.” Pietro sneers.

“Okay,” Peter winks, “But first we are getting pizza for dinner – and you’re paying.”

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely fell in love with this ship after seeing the art created by yunissss! I really couldn't help by write something inspired by the art and I hope it does it justice!


End file.
